


Morning Light

by whatkindofnameisella



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Pining, c2 ep 90, episode interpretation, kind of angst but not really, liam said i hope not and my mind went wild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 17:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatkindofnameisella/pseuds/whatkindofnameisella
Summary: “I hope not,” he says, and it is a fluttering, sublime thing, pulled up from some small place in his heart where she has broken down a wall and let some golden morning light in.a little widojest interpretation of that lovely moment in episode 90.
Relationships: Jester Lavorre/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 10
Kudos: 105





	Morning Light

It has been a long day of diplomacy and Caleb is tired of thinking about conflicts, tired of back and forth and rights and wrongs and bringing people to justice. He wants to sit in the Xhorhouse and read until his eyes hurt. He wants to never set foot in Rexxentrum ever again.

But they are talking about spies and runaways and cultists, because they have to, to stop the war and to stop the gods and to _make sure nothing that happened to him will ever happen to anyone, not ever again,_ and they are talking about Vence. They need to find Vence and Jester wants to try scrying, of all methods.

His heart beats against the pendant lying on his chest at the mention of it – and it is a tie of sorts, between the two of them, Caleb thinks. Two runaways seeking to hide from the eyes of those searching for them, stuffing their heads as far as possible beneath the sand and hoping that a necklace will stop anyone from catching on. Cowards and deserters and stowaways, the two of them are. And yes, he has grown, he is not the same as he was five years ago (or a year ago, for that matter, because it is the Nein that have changed him, really), but there is a part of him that will always belong to madness and fear and a new name tumbling out of his mouth each time he needed one. It is not something one ever truly escapes, he knows, and the pendant rests heavy against his chest. 

(for a second Caleb looks down and his hands are covered in blood and _no, I do not think we can walk there, I had to kill a man to get out_ and breathe, breathe, focus on the fucking diplomacy in front of you, Widogast –)

He has long since learned to practice patience with others with a mind like his own, and he reminds her, “For him I think it’s impossible because he is most likely travelling alone. I am compromised because you are all…” and he casts a glance around, knowing that the words that come out of his mouth next will create distance and pity and he is so very tired of those two things, “Not protected like I am.”

Jester furrows her brow, an unspoken hurting and hoping hidden in the tightness of her mouth and creases around her eyes, “Should we always stay a little bit away from you, then?”

“I hope not,” he says, and it is a fluttering, sublime thing, pulled up from some small place in his heart where she has broken down a wall and let some golden morning light in. He says it with barely a breath between where she stops and he starts, quiet and raw as it overflows onto his tongue, and there is an ache in his chest that comes with the truth of it. It is a hope. He does not often let himself have those.

She smiles at that, lips slowly turning up to break into a wide grin overbrimming with a jubilance only ever held by her, and oh, he could live in that smile for the rest of his life, he thinks, could live in those violet eyes and freckles and paint splatters against her cheeks and never miss anything he had ever known before if it meant a lifetime enveloped by her.

He is happy to have said it. _I hope not._ He does not want to be alone, does not think he would know how to do that anymore, and he looks at her again to drink in the sight of her smiling at the thought of him wanting them all – wanting _her_ – around. The walls he has built up around his heart crack a little more, sunlight streaming ever so slightly further in, and he comes to the easy realization that he would take being found and followed by everyone he has ever feared over never getting to be near her again.

They go back to talking about politics and scrying and wars, the remnants of that smile stubbornly etched on her cheeks. He hopes not. _Gods,_ he hopes not. He does not think he could live without her anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> i saw a gif of this before i even saw the episode and immediately knew i would be writing it out after i saw the whole thing. what a heartwarming moment. how dare you Liam Obrien. after i wrote Curdled Milk ive been making these every now and then - whenever Liam or Laura does a thing and i go "oh my god i need to process this extremely tender moment through writing right now!!" I haven't uploaded most of them but I loved this one, and the tag is so very alive, so i thought why not! hope you enjoyed :)


End file.
